Demon Chaser
by HauntedPast
Summary: Dean vows to be Sam's demon chaser till the day he dies. Oneshot. Brother fluff.


Hi, this is a Supernatural fic I did a while back. Have you noticed I like fics with nightmares: )

Anyway, you'll notice that this story starts out with Sam's POV and gradually shifts to Dean's. I hope that doesn't confuse anyone.

Read and Review!

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Sam jerked awake with a terrified cry, his sweat soaked bangs flying from the movement. He panted for breath, unable to get enough, unable to calm himself after what he'd seen.

"Oh, God,"

He felt sick.

He didn't notice the concerned hand that came to his shoulder before he was up, stumbling his way to the bathroom as quickly as he could in the dark.

He barely made it before he retched into the toilet, gagging and heaving violently as he tried to expel the sight from his mind. He could feel the tears prickling his eyes.

"Sammy?"

Gentle hands came to rest on his shaking, trembling shoulders, offering comfort and support. The soft, concerned voice of his brother had him heaving over the porcelain bowl once more.

Tears flowed unhindered down his flushed cheeks as he remembered the blood and the knife, and Dean's lifeless eyes somehow staring accusingly at him. It was his fault!

He dry heaved again.

"God, Sammy…" Dean soothed, rubbing his brother's bare back as he heaved again, though nothing was left to come up. What the hell had happened in his sleep?

Sam finally couldn't support his weak body anymore and wilted, spilling into Dean's startled yet firm arms.

"Easy, Sammy, easy…" Dean said, pulling his trembling, sobbing mess of a brother to him. "It's okay, everything's fine. You're fine."

"Dean…" Sam whispered shakily, barely able to get the name out of his mouth.

"Yeah, lil' brother?" Dean asked, his lips near Sam's ear and his eyes conspicuously wet.

"God, Dean," Sam sobbed, clutching at his brother and burying his face in Dean's shoulder. Dean's shirt immediately became soaked in tears.

"Shhh, Sam, you're okay, you're okay, I gotcha," Dean croaked, letting his hand fall to rub the base of Sam's neck. _Shit, Sammy…_

On the outside, Dean was calm and reassuring, because he knew he needed to be for his brother, but inwardly his world was shaken. The older Winchester has never seen Sam react to a vision like this. Not to this extent. He'd thrash in his sleep, mumble, maybe wake up screaming, but a vision had never shaken him so bad as to vomit and cry so intensely.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean whispered, rubbing his brother's back as he spoke. "We're having a total chick-flick-moment on the bathroom floor—" Dean's weak attempt at his usual humor went unnoticed by his brother, who just seemed to clutch tighter at him after hearing his voice.

Realizing he could do nothing at that moment but comfort his brother, Dean settled for tightening his arms around his trembling sibling and doing his best to calm him.

"…blood…so much blood…" Sam whimpered, his head burrowing further into Dean's chest. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that his brother was fine, that he was here, holding on to him with all his might, all Sam could see was the blood and the accusing eyes and the knife that had tumbled from his fingers.

Dean kept a tight hold on the younger hunter, his voice soft when he spoke. "Sammy? Are you talking about your vision?"

He waited and after a while, he felt Sam nod against his chest, his shirt fisted in his brother's shaking hands.

His brother's sobs were dying down as were the pitiful mews of pain from the headache usually left behind by a vision, but Sam would not let go of Dean. The twenty-six year old got the impression that his brother thought he would disappear if he released him.

"Come on, Sammy, tell me what your vision was about." Dean's tone was hopefully reassuring and soft. If he could figure out what happened, he could maybe find a way to help Sam—make everything better like big brothers are supposed to do.

Dean immediately felt Sam shake his head violently, feeling his brother's grip on him tighten reflexively around his waist. A strangled sob escaped Sammy's lips and the twenty-six year old hunter felt the shudder that passed through him.

"Okay, okay." Dean shushed, his hand stroking Sam's hair as he rocked back and forth, trying to pacify another potential breakdown.

"Shhh, shh, Sammy, it's okay, you don't need to tell me now."

He closed his eyes painfully, ignoring the two tears that escaped as he rested his cheek atop his little brother's hair, continuing to rock till Sam fell asleep in his arms.

Dean thought to himself that he could do this—he could sit on the floor of a dingy hotel bathroom, in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, if it meant chasing away Sam's demons.

He would do it till his brother didn't need him anymore.

_It'll be a hell of a long time from now._

He looked down at his brother's sleeping tearstained face. Dean still saw the frightened five year-old that would creep into his room late at night and crawl into his bed sniffling about monsters under the bed or ghosts in the closet. He'd chase away the bad guys and Sammy would hold him just as tight then as Sam did now, on the floor of the bathroom in a dirty motel in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night.

As he closed his eyes and hugged his brother closer, Dean vowed to be Sam's demon-chaser till the day he died.

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Well, here it is. Please Review! Review! Review!


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